Thanks
by The Disreputable Writer
Summary: Ella isn't sure what to think of Drum when she first meets him, but through trouble and grief they are there for each other. The events that led to their deep understanding and friendship. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing she noticed was his size. Of course, it was kind of hard to miss.

"You're here. Good," said Shade's hologram where it sat behind its desk. Ella nodded without looking at him. She couldn't take her eyes off the man who stood to the side of the desk, softly illuminated by the hologram's glow.

The shadows obscured his face, and for a moment Ella thought the gargantuan body must have belonged to an adult, maybe a military man. The idea of a hidden army, ready and equipped to fight the Overlords, flashed into her mind. But it was gone just as quickly when the man leaned forward enough that the light caught his face, and Ella saw that he was just a boy no older than herself. It didn't take her long to put together what he was. She knew about what went on in the Training Grounds.

"New recruit, Shade?" said Ella, back to her businesslike self.

"Yes," said Shade, "I would like you to meet Drum. Drum, this is Ella, the young woman I told you about."

Drum inclined his head almost imperceptibly toward Ella, but never opened his mouth to speak.

"Ella," Shade resumed, "You've been with us for five months, and your work has been consistently excellent. Brat says that you're the best tactician he's ever had on his team, and I've seen your improvement with your swordplay and your Talent firsthand. I think it's time I gave you your own team."

Ella stared for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. "You're taking me off Brat's team?" she demanded.

Shade's expression made it clear that he would brook no arguments. "We need sensible team leaders like you, especially after our string of losses in the last month," he said, "And now that we have a escapee from the Training Grounds…" He gestured to Drum, who remained silent. Ella hoped the boy was just nervous, and not dimwitted. "I can't just put him on anyone's team. He's too much of an asset. But I'm sure you'll be able to use him to his full potential."

Ella wanted to say that she had only just started feeling at home with her friends on Brat's team, that she hadn't been so happy since before the Change, and that she felt like Shade was taking all that away from her and starting her back at square one. But she held her tongue. She was painfully aware of what she owed to Shade. If he hadn't taken her in she would still be on the streets, barely scraping by day to day. He was the reason that they were organized, well-fed, and armed. The children on the Sub owed Shade everything, and though some refused to admit it, Ella knew. She couldn't refuse her savior.

"I'm sure I will," she said.

Minutes later, Ella found herself back in the corridor with the silent giant beside her. Shade had given them a simple mission to start with, to ease them into the transition. They were to raid a grocery store to stock the Sub's galley. Ella had been on similar missions with Brat, and she knew that if they left immediately they could be back before sunset brought the Ferrets out of their holes. "Follow me," she said to Drum, and marched toward the main hatch.

Halfway there, a figure leaped lightly out of a side hall and landed next to Ella, quickly falling into step with her. It was a gangly boy with a mischievous grin. "So, he's taken you away from us," he said, "It was only a matter of time. You were too good for me anyway."

Ella smiled, an expression that would become increasingly rare in the following years. "Don't say that, Brat," she said, "We'll still see each other around the Sub. It's even better this way, since we're both team leaders. I'm your equal now."

Brat put a hand over his heart dramatically and shook his head. "Oh, my sweet Ella," he said, "We were never equals. You're a saint, and I… well, I live up to my name! So where are you going with this big lug? No offense." He directed the last words at Drum, who indeed looked completely unoffended.

"That's Drum," said Ella, "He's my new team. We're going to raid the corner store over Ten West."

Brat gave Drum an appraising, but not unfriendly, stare. "Doesn't talk much, does he?" he observed before responding to Ella, "Oh, sure, I know the one. Been there a few times myself. I thought it was almost tapped out, but you might still find some good stuff. Ah, food runs are the best kind of mission. You get to take whatever you want off the top before handing it over to the galley."

"That's not allowed," said Ella, knowing what Brat's response would be.

"And when has that ever stopped me?" said Brat, grinning, "Well, I'd better be going. I have a mission of my own, and now that you're on the fast track it's down to just me and Corbie. It's a shame to lose you." Ella thought she detected a rare note of gravity in Brat's voice at that last statement.

"Good luck," she said as Brat peeled away from her and Drum, "Don't get killed."

"Never!" shouted Brat over his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you speak at all?" Ella asked, exasperated. She had led Drum to the exit hatch, tried and failed to find a set of coveralls to fit him, and showed him the way out the hatch and into the mouth of the Main Drain, but through it all he had remained completely silent. She was beginning to worry that he was truly stupid.

"Yes," said Drum, "I'm sorry. This is all very new to me." Ella was surprised at the high register of his voice, and at the thoughtfulness and intelligence behind it. She immediately softened towards him, but she still wasn't sure if he would be any more useful than a blunt weapon. His strength made him an asset, but if he was too timid or slow to use it properly he would be useless to her.

"Fine," she said, "You'll have more time to get used to the Sub when we return. As for the drains, they're easy enough." She explained the drain system as they walked, and aside from the odd question Drum remained quiet. They passed through the Main Junction and continued down the Ten West drain.

"So what's your Talent?" Ella asked after a particularly long stretch of uncomfortable silence. She figured it made sense for her to know what her teammate's abilities were before they ran into trouble.

"I move things," Drum said. Ella waited, but Drum failed to elaborate.

"Seems redundant," she said finally, "You look like you could move anything you wanted anyway with muscles like those."

Drum shook his head. "I mean I can move things without touching them," he said, "I just think them someplace else. It's how I got rid of my tracer." Ella nodded her understanding. She knew there was a word for that, but she couldn't think of what it was.

She expected Drum to ask her how she got out of the Dorms next. It was a common topic of conversation for escapees. But though she saw his eyes flick to the raised and discolored scar on her wrist, he said nothing. "You want to know how I got it out?" she asked. She was tired of telling the story, but at least it would be something to talk about.

"It doesn't really matter," said Drum, "When you get right down to it, there are only two ways to do it: the easy way, and the hard way." He indicated her wrist, where she had cut herself open and popped the lump of metal from where it had been wedged between her wrist bones. "And I can tell you did it the hard way."

They had reached their manhole, so Ella cut the conversation short to climb up to the street and look around. The sun was beginning to go down. They would have to hurry if they wanted to be back in the drains before the Ferrets came out.

"All clear," she said, and pushed the manhole cover to the side. She clambered nimbly onto the street. Drum followed more slowly, the ladder creaking under his weight.

When they entered the little store, Ella could see that Brat had been right. The closest stores to the Sub had long since been emptied, and ones like this, that were only a little farther away, were beginning to get picked over. Soon teams would have to venture farther and farther from the Sub to collect food, assuming the Overlords didn't discover their little base before it came to that.

Squinting in the dim light, Ella could see that there were still things worth taking. She unslung the empty backpack she had brought and began filling it with candy and cans of vegetables. Anything that had survived the fifteen-year span without rotting to nothing, the kids on the Sub would eat. None of Shade's children were picky. They had all been on the streets at one time or another, and they knew what it was like to starve.

Drum found some cans of fruit in a storage room, and he disappeared to fill his own backpack. Ella cleaned out the front of the store. When her backpack was almost full, she noticed something on a shelf near the ceiling. The other teams that had been through the store had obviously missed it, but Ella recognized the treasure right away: a case of batteries. Power was always a concern on the Sub. The grid was sporadic at best, so batteries and gasoline for the generators were priceless.

Ella began climbing. If the box had been on a set of standing shelves, she would have just tipped them over, but it was on a shelf bolted directly to the wall. By standing on the front counter, she could almost reach it. She grasped at air while grunting, frustrated.

Suddenly, she became aware of a figure below her. Drum was crouching under the shelf, cupping his hands near the ground like a step. She hadn't even heard him approach. Ella climbed down from the counter and put one foot in Drum's hands, and then he stood, effortlessly lifting her up along with him. She steadied herself against the shelf, which was now just at the height of her eyes, and grabbed the box of batteries. Drum lowered her back to the ground.

"Thanks," said Ella as she stuffed the box into her backpack. Drum returned to the storage room to clean out the last of the canned food, then rejoined her at the store front. "Not bad," said Ella, indicating their bulging packs. Hers was heavy on her slender back, but Drum's dangled ridiculously over one massive arm. It was too small to be worn normally. "We're going to have to find you some custom gear," Ella observed as they returned to the manhole.

It was lucky that there was little light coming through the manhole covers, because Ella was able to see the faint glow of Myrmidon witchlights as they neared the Main Junction.

"Damn," she said, "They sometimes stake out this area, since they know we use the drains. I thought last night's rain would have kept them away for at least a while longer. We'll have to take a detour." She turned down a side tunnel, and immediately the reassuring rush of water around her calves became a trickle that barely reached the tops of her shoes. The tunnel was dry.

Drum scooted around Ella to stand in front. "I'll lead," he said. He didn't mention that Ferrets might be sleeping up ahead, or that he had more blood to lose if he happened to get attacked, or that his body would be big enough to block most of the drain if he fell, giving Ella a chance to escape.

He said nothing, but all these things raced through Ella's mind before she said, "Fine. Do you know the way?"

Drum nodded. "It's a grid. We'll take the next side tunnel to try to get back to a wetter drain that runs west, then link back up with the Main Drain after the Junction." Ella hid her surprise. She had thought that Drum hadn't been listening when she gave him her lecture about the layout of the drains. She made a mental note that his silence didn't mean he wasn't paying attention.

Despite Ella's fears, the drains were empty, and they were soon back in the Main Drain with water up to their knees. Ella felt giddy with relief and pride as she and Drum crawled back through the torpedo tube into the safety of the sub's innards. She quickly changed into a dry robe, only to turn around and see Drum still in his filthy, soaking street clothes. She would have to remind Shade to get the poor boy some coveralls and a robe in his size.

"Leave the packs here," she said, "Shade will send someone to pick them up. We have to go make our report before we're done." In a moment of caprice, she opened her backpack a bit and snatched a chocolate bar out of it before making her way to see Shade.

As they approached the hatch to the briefing room, Ella could tell something was wrong. A hysterical voice, alternating between crying and shouting, could be heard even through the thick steel wall. Ella would have waited outside for Shade to handle the problem if she hadn't recognized the voice within. It belonged to Corbie, her former teammate.

Forgetting procedure, she barged into the room in time to hear Corbie shouting at Shade's stoic hologram, "…even if we had completed it! It was a pointless mission and you still rated it higher than our lives! This is your fault, you bastard! You don't even care, do you? Look at you sitting there, putting on airs, while it's us who are fighting and dying…"

Corbie noticed Ella. His young face, when he turned it towards her, was almost unrecognizable under layers of rage and sorrow.

"Ella! Ella," he sobbed, "They took him. Brat's gone."


	3. Chapter 3

For days, Ella did nothing. Instead of crying or storming or waking up in the night in cold sweats, she found herself shutting down, growing numb. She slept most of the time, and when she couldn't sleep she found that she had no motivation to do anything else. So when she didn't have specific duties from Shade, she sat in her quarters or hid out in the vid rooms.

She had rediscovered the vid rooms the day after Brat's loss. They had fascinated her when she first came to the Sub, and she had spent her first few months ravenously watching not only instructional videos but also Shade's interviews with the children. Now she revisited those archives to look for Brat's entrance interview, thinking that seeing his face would help snap her out of her emotional fugue. It didn't, but the vid rooms were as good a place as any to hide oneself away, so she stayed and kept watching. Face after unfamiliar face paraded across the screen. There were thousands of interviews, more than she could ever hope to watch. It was all that was left of those child-soldiers, and now it was all that was left of Brat. Soon, she would join their ranks as a virtual ghost, remembered only by the computer and by Shade.

It seemed that whenever she ventured out, people wanted to give their condolences or ask how she was feeling, as if she were a bereaved widow. It was true that Brat had been more than a friend to her, but she didn't want special treatment from anyone, and the endless questions exhausted her. So she slept, and hid.

She was in the vid rooms five days later when someone knocked on the door. It took Ella a few seconds to register that the sound was meant for her. She wasn't used to being interrupted while hooked up to the archives. She opened the door to find Drum in the hallway.

"Shade wants us," he said. He was wearing new clothes and shoes, and looked a good deal healthier than he had when he first arrived. Ella realized that she had mostly forgotten about him while she had been withdrawn from the world, and a pang of guilt cracked her emotionless shell.

"Why didn't he call me over the intercom?" she asked, surprised at how gravelly her voice was after days of disuse.

"He did," said Drum, his voice somehow conveying his worry without a hint of pity, "Three times."

Sheepishly, she followed him to the briefing room. On the way, he said awkwardly, "I'm sorry about your friend."

He was about to say more, but Ella cut him off with a short, "Don't start. I've had enough of that." They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Shade's hologram greeted them as they entered the briefing room, "Thank you Drum. Ella, when I call you I expect you to respond in a timely manner." His annoyance with her was strangely comforting. At least he wasn't coddling her.

"I have a new assignment for you," Shade continued, "A rather important one, in fact. I'm starting to research a new technology that may well turn the tide of this war. I don't want to make it public knowledge yet, in case the initial tests don't work the way I hope, so I'm afraid I can't tell you exactly what it is. I simply want you to bring me the items on this list." He indicated a piece of paper on his desk.

Drum picked up the paper, glanced at it, and handed it to Ella. She didn't give it more than a glance either. The items were generic enough that nothing could be inferred about the nature of the project, and none were so hard to get that they warranted special mention. She put the list in her pocket.

"Do you want us to leave immediately?" Ella asked.

"Yes," said Shade, "At the next low tide. Anything else?"

"No sir."

"Good. Drum, you are dismissed. Ella, would you allow me to speak with you for a moment longer? Not regarding the mission."

Ella knew this had been coming. "Yes sir," she said. Drum left without a word, and she was left standing in front of the desk alone.

"Ella," said Shade, "I can't help but notice that your behavior over the last few days has been uncharacteristically antisocial. I understand your need to grieve for Brat in your own way, but - and I hope you don't think I'm being insensitive - I need to know that it won't affect your performance in the field." He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and his icy blue eyes sought hers. Dozens of winking red eyes around the darker corners of the room seemed to do the same.

When she met his gaze, her eyes were as cold and steady as his own. It was insensitive of him to ask, yes, and it was also necessary. Tact and manners had no place in this world. It didn't matter what she felt, or how far into apathy and depression she spiraled. The only thing that mattered was the mission, and her ability to complete it. She would fight for as long as she was able, and when she was no longer able she would die. It was as simple and brutal as that. No one could offer her anything better.

She left behind her delusions of home and friendship. Emotional attachments were weaknesses; Brat had taught her that. And she resolved to stop hiding from the world, as if her loss gave her leave to pretend that the war didn't still rage. Everyone had lost someone. Brat was no different from the thousands whose videos now languished in the archives.

For their sakes, she would defeat the Overlords. And as long as Shade shared her mission, she would follow his orders without question or hesitation. Finally understanding what it meant to live in this world after the Change, she gave up being a girl and became a weapon: reliable, functional, and deadly.

"No sir," was all she said, but her steely eyes told the rest of the story. Shade was the first to look away.

"Good," he said, "Dismissed."


	4. Chapter 4

When Ella stepped outside and saw the sun on the horizon, for a moment she couldn't remember if it was sunrise or sunset. She had spent so much time in the vid rooms that she had lost track of the days. After a moment of thought she decided that it must be sunrise. Not the best time for a mission, since Wingers would be out during the day, but Shade had told her to leave at the next low tide.

"Three kinds of wire, tool sets, cell phone batteries…" Ella read off the list as she and Drum climbed into the mouth of the Main Drain, "We can get most of this from the hardware store, and the rest from the electronics store at the mall." She didn't mention that no one liked going to the mall, since it was a known Ferret nest. But the only other electronics store was across town, out of reasonable walking range, so they had no choice anyway.

"Which way?" said Drum, and Ella was almost startled that he hadn't simply nodded and fallen in behind her. Maybe he would become more talkative now that he was more comfortable in his new home.

"The hardware store is over Eight West, so not too far," she replied, "The mall is a little farther, but we should be able to get to both and back to the Sub before noon." She hoped she was right.

The hardware store was uneventful. They loaded up a backpack with various supplies from the list. Some were very specific, and it took them a while to find everything. Finally Ella had managed to open the computer inventory system and locate the remaining items electronically. All together, the items fit in one backpack but were quite heavy. Drum picked up the backpack without a word. Ella noticed that the straps had been specially elongated to fit over his massive shoulders.

"Thanks," she said as she picked up the second, empty pack. She would fill it when they got to the mall.

Another problem with the mall was that blockages in the drains had kept the routes closest to it dry for years, extending the Ferret nest underground. The closest safe manhole was several hundred yards away from the entrance, across a small park. Ella explained this to Drum as they sat in the drains sharing a can of string beans for lunch.

"Wingers?" he said in his strange voice.

"Exactly," said Ella through a mouthful of beans, "There's nowhere to hide so our best bet is to run for it. If we get inside the building, the Wingers will give up the chase. But if we're lucky, we'll never even be seen." She passed the beans back to Drum, who finished the can in one gulp. "Ready?" she asked. Drum tossed the empty can aside and nodded.

Ella tilted the manhole cover open and scanned the sliver of sky it revealed. It was clear, and it remained clear even when she shoved the cover completely aside. She waited for Drum to struggle through the hole, the backpack adding to his already sizable girth, and then began jogging toward the mall entrance.

Involuntarily, Ella's mind wandered. It had been in a park like this one that Brat had found her, a malnourished street kid desperately trying to choke down grass rather than risk going back into the city, where the Myrmidons patrolled. Ella had always been deathly afraid of Myrmidons, even more so than of the other Creatures. Brat had feared nothing, not even the Meat Factory. As he had said, "Whether your body's lying in the street or cut up and sewn into a Creature, dead is dead. The trick is to stay alive."

She didn't see the shadows that flitted beside them in the grass, though she should have. "Ella," said Drum softly. Ella snapped herself out of her reverie and looked behind them to see the Flight of Wingers that was following them. She wondered if Drum had been able to tell that she wasn't paying attention.

"Run for it," she said, and turned her jog into a sprint. Drum followed suit, and the lead Winger, seeing its prey escaping, dove.

They could both tell that they wouldn't make it to the relative safety of the mall before the Winger hit, so they turned as one to hold their ground. Drum drew his sword and cocked it over his shoulder like a batter watching a pitch fly towards the plate. Ella was impressed; most kids had to be taught to stand and fight after a lifetime of running away, but Drum didn't shy away from battle. But the Winger was picking up speed, and Ella could tell that even if Drum managed to hit it, the impact would almost certainly wound or kill him. She had to find a way to slow the Winger down.

It was hard to concentrate with a Winger bearing down on her, but Ella had had plenty of practice. She forced herself to close her eyes and focus on nothing but the image of a pane of glass backed by silver, its edges ground smooth so they wouldn't cut. Something flat, round, and cool that had not been there before was suddenly in her hand.

Ella held up the mirror in the split second before the Winger struck, reflecting the sun into its eyes. Temporarily blinded, it tried to pull out of its dive and retreat back to the sky. It managed to not crash into the ground, but the bottom of its arc brought it into Drum's striking range. He quickly shifted from a horizontal swing to an overhead slash, and there was a crunching sound and a spray of ichor as his sword connected with the Winger's shoulder.

The Creature flopped to the ground, its wing shattered. Ella and Drum left it behind in a screaming heap and sprinted the last yards to the mall. The rest of the Flight, intimidated by the defeat of their leader, gave them wide berth as they wrenched open the doors and disappeared into the dark.

The mall was a multi-tiered complex, and the top floors were covered in windows and flooded with light. But there was also a basement complex, where no sunlight reached and where the electric lights that had once lit it lay smashed on the floor. In this impenetrable darkness, the Ferrets had taken up residence. In the early days of the Change, they must have favored it as a hunting ground, feeding on Dorm escapees who remembered the mall as safe and familiar, and sought refuge there. Now no one ventured into that dark pit, but the Ferrets remained, sleeping away the day and moving as one fleshy mass.

The electronics store was in the basement, so that was where Ella and Drum ventured now. As soon as the door closed behind them, they were thrust into complete and utter darkness. Ella groped to her right and found the wall, then reached out to her left and felt Drum beside her. Her left hand still held the mirror, and when Drum took her hand he felt it and took it, studying it blindly.

"Is it a mirror?" he guessed, turning it over in his hands, "Where did you get it?"

"I made it," said Ella, "Just then. That's my Talent." She expected Drum to ask why she didn't create food, or explosives, or an airplane so all the kids could escape the city and live in the farmlands or the mountains. She always had to explain that she needed to know an object inside and out before she could actualize it, and that bigger and more complex objects could be difficult or impossible to create. But Drum seemed to assume that Ella knew best, and appreciated the small miracle she had worked without asking for more.

"Flashlights," Ella ordered after a moment of silence. The flashlights provided by Shade worked, but they weren't very bright and the batteries didn't last long. Shade insisted that they used to have better ones, but they were lost one by one on various missions, and each time they were replaced by inferior models. The twin pools of light emitted by Ella's and Drums lights illuminated a short stairway in front of them and two broken and peeling store fronts in a long hallway. A short way down the hall was a map. Though it was almost completely grown over with mildew, Ella worked out the general layout of the complex.

"This way," she said, and set off into the darkness. She shined her weak light back and forth, scanning inside stores and even on the ceiling. They had seen no Ferrets yet, but she was sure one would spring on her suddenly from the direction she least expected. The darkness was making her edgy, and while once she might have trusted Brat and Corbie to watch her back, now she felt she had to scan every corner herself.

Drum was proving himself to be a good partner, but Ella resisted the urge to trust him as she had Brat. That kind of trust was dangerous. After all, even Brat hadn't been vigilant enough to prevent his own demise. How could she trust anyone to prevent her own? It was difficult and lonely, but she would have to rely only on herself.

She heard the Ferrets before she saw them.

Dozens of bodies breathing together, their pants and sighs echoing in the empty corridors, created a whispery music as Ella and Drum approached. Finally, the edge of Ella's light caught a padded foot, and the nest came into view.

Her first instinct was to count them into groups of five, to see how many Fangs she was dealing with. But Ella soon saw that there would be no counting these Ferrets; they were draped and knotted in a heap so thick that it was difficult to tell one body from the other. And it was huge, blocking the entire hall. Even though Ella could see the window of the electronics store from where she stood, it was impossible to get to it.

"Can you move the things we need over to us?" Ella whispered, "Without waking the Ferrets?"

Drum studied the distant store front and even raised his hand experimentally, seeming to grope for something in the air. But then he shook his head. "I have to be able to see what I'm moving," he said, "Or at least know where it is. I can't see anything from here."

Ella shined her light as far as she could. The store front was completely plugged with Ferrets. Even if they managed to find another way around, they would never be able to get inside. "Looks like we're going across town," she sighed, "Come on. If we get out here now we'll get back to the Sub before dark, at least." She turned to go back to the staircase and the door, hoping that the Wingers would still be keeping their distance.

And she stopped. Something was moving in the darkness. As she watched, a roiling wave of fur and claws rolled out of a side hallway and across her path. She leaped back, crashing into Drum and sending them both to the floor. Their flashlights rolled away, and in their flickering light Ella caught an impression of the blob that had almost engulfed them: a mass of Ferrets, all half-asleep, each jostling for position in a claustrophobic ball. Their individual movements caused the heap to move as one creature, moving through the halls like an amoeba. Before Ella could react, they had already blocked the hallway and, just as quickly, fallen still.

They were trapped.


	5. Chapter 5

Ella and Drum sat motionless, side by side, for several seconds. Ella breathed shallowly, trying to keep silent even though her heart was thumping against the inside of her rib cage. After a while, it became apparent that the two masses of Ferrets weren't going to move again, leaving Ella and Drum stranded in a small pocket of hallway between them.

"At least they aren't moving towards us anymore," Ella whispered. Drum nodded.

"What are we going to do?" he murmured back, the breathing of the dozens of Ferrets almost drowning him out.

Ella slowly stood and retrieved their flashlights. Holding one in each hand, she wielded the beams as close to the Ferrets' eyes as she dared as she scanned the area for anything helpful. The bulk of Ferrets blocked the hallway completely from side to side, but it only reached about halfway to the ceiling. Ella stepped close to the pulsating mass to shine the lights over the top of it, into the hallway beyond. Then she pointed. "There," she said, resting the flashlight beams on the shattered front window of a sporting goods store on the far side of the Ferrets, "That climbing gear."

Before she could ask him if he could get it, Drum had already stretched his arms out and begun concentrating. As he curled his fingers as if her were picking something up, the ropes and fasteners rose into the air unsupported, shedding the layer of dust and broken glass that had fallen over them. Drum drew his hands toward himself, and the bundle sailed over the Ferrets and into Ella's outstretched arms.

"Thanks," she said, kneeling and looping one end of the long rope around an exposed bit of piping in the floor, "Now hang it over something on the ceiling - that light fixture - and tie it to something on the other side. There, that doorjamb." Drum followed her directions perfectly, the coiled rope moving in time with his arms. The intensity of his focus and the precision of his movements made him look strangely graceful, not at all like the lumbering hulk Ella had first assumed him to be. He finished by working his fingers in imitation of tying a knot, and the far end of the rope responded by securing itself to the frame of door of the sports store.

Ella pulled her end and the rope went taut, forming two straight lines: one from the pipe on their side to the light fixture on the ceiling, and the other back down from the ceiling to the door on the safe side of the hallway. It was a simple but treacherous bridge over the river of Ferrets. Ella looked on it with pride.

Drum's gaze was more doubtful. "You go first," he said, "It might not hold my weight." Ella's triumph was dampened as she realized that he was right. She hadn't accounted for her companion's uncommon size. Looking at him, she also noticed that he was sweating and breathing hard, as if he had just been running. That bit of rope work had taken a lot out of him.

"Thanks," she said again, and handed him one of the flashlights. But it was with some reluctance that she mounted the rope bridge and left Drum behind. Her crossing might pull slack in the line, or weaken the anchors to which they had attached the rope. The light fixture at the top of the arch worried her especially, as it creaked and released a small shower of plaster even at her relatively small weight. What if, by going first, she had sealed Drum's fate?

She wrapped her legs around the rope and pulled herself along with her hands. It was slow going on the upslope, as the angle made it difficult to climb, but after a short awkward repositioning around the light fixture she slid the rest of the way to the ground easily. She could see the bright outline of the exit from where she stood.

A brusque wave encouraged Drum to hurry, but he was taking his time. He tested the rope by leaning on it, and the ceiling bowed out just a little. Ella couldn't see his expression from where he stood shrouded in shadow, but she imagined he didn't look optimistic.

"Come on!" she whispered as loudly as she dared, "There's no other way." With a nod of assent, Drum gripped the rope and swung his feet off the floor.

One of the bolts holding the light fixture in place popped loose, and the rope shook violently. Abandoning his careful approach, Drum shinned up the rope with startling speed as the light fixture continued to buckle and creak. Cracks were appearing in the plaster of the ceiling. Not bothering to maneuver around the turn in the rope, Drum made a brave swing and a leap to land hard with his heels just inches away from a Ferret's outstretched tail. He teetered backwards for a moment, wind milling his arms wildly, almost falling back into the sleeping pile. But then he regained his balance and stood still. The Ferrets continued to sleep. Ella allowed herself to breathe a shaky sigh of relief.

But then the light fixture fell directly on top of the Ferrets with a crash and a shower of plaster dust.

"Run! Run! Run! Run! Go! Go! Go!" Ella screamed. The Ferrets, disoriented but quickly becoming fully awake, rose like an angry, hissing wave. Ella and Drum raced for the exit hand in hand, swinging their flashlights wildly ahead of them to try to see their way in the cloying darkness. Ella pointed hers behind them for a moment and witnessed the sea of Ferrets bursting through the dust cloud and tearing after them. Though most were confused and some hurt, they all recognized prey when they saw it running.

Ella turned back around, unable to look at the whirlwind of teeth that bore down on them, but the hungry snarls and skittering of claws on tile told her that the Ferrets were catching up. Her feet barely seemed to touch the floor as Drum dragged her down the hall. The sound of the Ferrets was getting louder. Ella steeled herself to feel the points of hollow fangs on her neck at any moment.

But the moment never came. Drum reached the exit and tore the door open with such force that it flew off its rusty hinges, and sunlight flooded the hall. Temporarily blinded, Ella and Drum groped their way out of the mall and onto the grass. As Ella's sight returned, she glanced back at the open doorway and thought she saw the shadowy movement of dozens of Ferrets fleeing the light and returning to the catacomb of the mall basement.

Ella turned her face to the sky to check for Wingers, but the sky was clear. With the sun on her face she was suddenly struck with the notion that she had been dead and buried in that awful dark pit, and that she had now been reborn. It was all she could do not to flop down on the grass and revel in the simple, rare pleasure of being outside on a beautiful morning.

The urge was banished in an instant, though, by the weight of responsibility returning. She couldn't be careless. Even now, when it looked so peaceful, enemies could be anywhere. And she had a mission to complete.

"Let's get back to the drains," she said, "We have to get across town to the other electronics store and back before the high tide at sundown. If we time it wrong, we'll have to spend the night outside the Sub."

Despite all the work he had done and the shock of his near brush with death, Drum returned Ella's gaze calmly. His shoulders rose and fell as he worked to catch his breath, and his face was drawn, but Ella could see in his eyes that he was far from finished. She wondered if he even had a limit, and what it would take to push him there.

But though he was able, he furrowed his brow at Ella's order and said, "That wasn't part of Shade's plan. And considering what we just went through, maybe we should go back to the Sub now and make a report."

"Shade's plan was to get the items on this list," said Ella without hesitation, "How we do it is up to me, and I say we're going across town. We're not scrubbing the mission just because of a little close call."

Ella could see that Drum disagreed, but he didn't argue any further. He only took a deep breath, drew himself up, and seemed to ready himself for a long day. They returned to the drains in silence and plunged back into darkness.

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Author's Note: Hello to all of you who have made it this far (all three of you). I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it, which is to say a lot! I love these characters and I love speculating about what made them the way the are in the book. Hopefully you think I'm doing a good job of it. But even if you don't, well, you did make it through all five chapters so far, so you must have some kind of opinion! So review!


	6. Chapter 6

Walking across town before the Change would have taken an hour or two. But going by the drains, dodging surges of water and taking detours around dry sections, it took Ella and Drum far longer than that. When Ella finally found the manhole she was looking for, she opened it to see that the heat of the day was beginning to wane. She guessed it was around four in the afternoon. She could see their target from where she stood: an above-ground store with cell phones and computers in the display windows. She could see the dark and dusty interior with its full shelves. Foragers rarely reached this side of town, which was far from both the Dorms and the Sub.

She splashed back into the water and shivered violently. Hours in the drains, wet from her chest down, had sapped her body heat, and sloshing through deep water had exhausted her. She eyed Drum enviously. He also looked tired, but at least he wasn't shivering. In fact, with his great body mass he seemed almost impervious to cold.

"The coast is clear," she said, "It's only a few yards to the store front. Let's run for it."

Drum nodded, and the two of them slid out of the dark tunnel and into the sun. This time Ella didn't allow her mind to wander. The warmth on her back was pleasant, but not distracting. So when the distant sound of whistling pierced the air, she wasted no time. "Trackers," she hissed, instantly on the alert, "Let's go."

Drum immediately moved to uncover the manhole again, showing a natural urge to get back into the safety of the water. But Ella turned and ran toward the store. After only a second of hesitation, Drum joined her, giving her a sidelong glance of such intensity that Ella was unable to meet his eyes. He didn't question her decision, but his eyes told her that he didn't approve of the risk she was taking.

She answered the unasked question, "The mission comes first. We'll worry about our safety after we have what we came for." She wrenched open the door of the shop and, as soon as they were both through, slammed it closed again. Through the full-length display windows she watched the Trackers appear from around the corner and begin nosing the manhole cover Ella and Drum had used. Their way back to the drains was cut off.

"They're coming this way," said Drum, his matter-of-fact voice failing to hide a note of urgency. Ella was flitting around the store, scooping things into her pack as quickly as she could.

"Done," she announced, swinging the pack back onto her shoulders. Drum pointed to the street where the Trackers were almost at the door. Ella nodded grimly. "We can fight our way out," she said, putting a hand on her sword, "I've fought Trackers before, and there's only three of them."

But then, as if in response to Ella's confidence, a maniple of Myrmidons lumbered onto the street, watching the softly whistling Trackers with their weapons at the ready. The Trackers were almost at the door. Soon the Myrmidons would realize that they had their quarry cornered inside.

"Shit," Ella whispered. He mind raced to come up with a new plan, but nothing came to her. There was no changing the fact that an insurmountable force had blocked their only escape, and that it had been her own miscalculation that had caused it. She looked guiltily at Drum only to see that he had left her side. She spun around to find that he was behind the counter, turning over furniture. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

Drum pulled at something on the floor and there was a crunch of wood sliding on wood and a screech of rusty metal. Ella poked her head over the counter and saw that Drum had opened an old, hidden trapdoor. It opened into complete darkness.

The Trackers began to whistle more urgently, and Ella saw one of the Myrmidons reach to open the door. With no time to wonder what new danger might be waiting for them through the trapdoor, she hissed, "Go! Go!" She vaulted over the counter and into the square of blackness. As she hit a concrete floor below, she heard Drum jump down after her and pull the door closed behind them just as the tromp of Myrmidon boots began to sound from above. They were trapped in the dark once again.

A sudden flash of light made Ella flinch, but it was only Drum turning on his flashlight. The weak beam illuminated a tiny concrete cellar with a pile of collapsed cardboard boxes in one corner and a rotting wooden stepladder in another. A leaky pipe emitted a steady stream of water, wetting the floor and probably keeping the nook from becoming a Ferret nest. There was nothing even remotely useful. "Now what?" he said. Ella wasn't sure whether his voice sounded accusatory because it carried real anger or because of her own guilt.

The footfalls from above told her that the trio of Trackers and the entire maniple of Myrmidons had crowded into the small store to look for them. Something stepped directly on the trapdoor, loosening a rain of dust that fell on Ella's upturned face. But the door remained closed, so clearly they hadn't yet figured out where their prey had gone. Ella grimaced and muttered, "All those Myrmidons in an enclosed space…I really wish I knew how to make a grenade."

Drum settled himself against the driest section of wall, and Ella slowly joined him. Together they listened to the sounds above and wondered whether the Trackers would find them before the Myrmidons lost their patience. The water dampening the floor would hamper the Trackers' sense of smell, but Ella couldn't be sure if it would be enough to save them.

Ella was so focused on listening to the Creatures that she didn't expect Drum's whispery voice when it suddenly said, "We should have gone back to the drains instead of coming in here."

She was quick to jump to her own defense. "I told you already," she said, "The mission comes first."

"But the mission requires your survival," said Drum, "What you did wasn't putting the mission before your own safety. It was just reckless. It helped nothing."

"You want an apology?" Ella said, her voice unexpectedly cracking, "Well, I'm sorry! It was my fault! I made a mistake and now we're both going to die for it!" She blinked back her tears so fast that the only trace of them was a slight burning behind her eyes.

But Drum looked at her with compassion. "I'm not blaming you," he said, "I'm worried about you." He hesitated for a moment, and Ella thought he would fall silent completely, but finally he went on. "You lost someone. It hurts. But the answer isn't to become a death-seeker."

Ella slapped a hand over her own mouth to suppress an involuntary snort of morbid laughter. A death-seeker? She was committed to the mission, and refused to let her emotions get in her way. But she wasn't suicidal.

Was she?

"I don't want to die," she said, suddenly realizing how true that was, "But we have to be realistic. Life expectancy isn't exactly what it used to be. Chances are, neither of us had a lot of time left even before we got stuck down here. Maybe the best we can hope for is to go out doing something meaningful, on our own terms."

"No," said Drum, his voice momentarily becoming deeper with the strength of his conviction, "Ella, you're strong, and smart, and brave, and… beautiful." He looked away to hide the traces of a blush before going on, "You're one of the few who survived the Dorms with her sense of self intact. You're a leader, and those are few and far between on our side of this fight. You're not expendable. And if we ever win this war - and I'm not saying I think we can, but if we do - we'll need people like you to rebuild. Let others die for the mission. You have to survive."

Ella was speechless. She had never known Drum to speak at such length and with such conviction. Finally she managed, "I'm not that special. We're all just warriors."

"Yes you are," said Drum, his voice returning to normal, "We're all warriors, but we're not all equal. Take me." He gestured at his ridiculously-proportioned body. "I was made for this world. Literally. The Overlords made me like this, so I could fight and die in the world they created. That's my place, my purpose. All I gained by escaping was getting to choose which side I fought for."

Ella was about to tell him that she thought he was wrong when Drum suddenly jumped to his feet as if he had had an idea. He began rooting through the pile of damp cardboard, tossing pieces aside to expose the concrete underneath. Ella looked at him questioningly until he pointed to the leaking pipe and said, "Where's all that water going?"

Seeing his point, Ella joined in. They hurled the flattened boxes as quickly and quietly as they could to the other side of the cellar, until finally their goal was exposed; the water was escaping into a wide drain with a rusty grate. "I think this might link up with the drain system that we use!" Ella said, turning on her own flashlight and shining it into the tunnel. It was coated in slime and overgrown with unidentifiable plant life, but it looked just wide enough to accommodate her narrow hips and shoulders.

"If it does," said Drum, "You should go back to the Sub. Don't worry about me." Ella was about to ask him what he meant when it belatedly occurred to her that, while her slight frame would barely fit through the small drain, there was no chance of Drum joining her.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I have no idea if storm drains actually work this way, and I don't particularly care.

Please review! 3

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Ella watched as Drum tore the grate off the drain and tossed the backpacks down into the hole. Her limbs and tongue didn't seem to want to move. She knew that the mission and logic required her to go, but for some reason she hesitated. She couldn't imagine leaving Drum behind.

"I don't think it's very deep," he said, listening to the sound the packs made on the way down. He didn't seem at all fazed by his imminent abandonment and death.

Ella wanted to rage and beg and scream at the unfairness of it. Even faced with salvation, she stood still and let her mind race, trying to find a way to save them both.

But then she stopped herself. This was emotional and weak. She had let herself get too close to Drum, even after she had resolved never to do so again. Drum was trapped; there was no way around it. And even if he escaped, he would die one day just like all the others. The only way to escape pain was not to care.

So she made herself not care. She stepped up to the hole and slid her feet inside. Just as she was about to let herself fall, something loomed large in her vision. It was Drum's hand, and he was offering it to her.

"Thanks," she said automatically as she took it and let him lower her down. Her feet hit the bottom, but for a moment she left her hand in his. Looking up at the circle of light above, at Drum's unreadable face looking down at her, she wanted to say more. She wanted to explain that when she said "thanks," that she was thanking him for so much more than a single chivalrous gesture. He had saved her life more than once that day, worked alongside her, followed her lead almost as if he could read her mind. He wasn't Brat, and never would be, but he had become someone to her, whether she could admit it to herself or not.

But she had no words for what she wanted to say, so she let her hand fall. Without so much as a glance behind, she scooped up the bags and shoved them further into the pipe.

The pipe bent at a ninety-degree angle where she stood, and continued horizontally. She had some trouble bending her body to fit, and the claustrophobia of not being able to bend her knees or take a complete breath almost got the better of her. She couldn't even reach her hands up from where they were pinned at her sides to wipe the slime from where it pressed against her face. But she managed to worm her way through inch by inch, pushing the bags ahead of her with her feet, until suddenly those bags fell away from her with an echoing splash.

She hooked her feet around the outside edge of the pipe and pulled herself the rest of the way out. Sure enough, she was back in the storm drains, not far from the manhole where she and Drum had exited. She quickly rescued the bags from being carried away by the current and started to find a way to get them both on her back.

She had almost managed to make herself forget about the boy she had left to die in the cellar, but not enough to keep from hesitating one last time. Assuring herself that she would only take one last look, she tied the bags to the ladder and reached to angle the manhole cover up by just a degree. In the sliver of light that was exposed, she could see the store front and the Creatures within. They showed no sign of leaving. In fact, the Trackers were beginning to congregate around the trapdoor.

She didn't think. Later, she would try to recreate the chain of thoughts that led to her actions, and would fail. She didn't even fully register what she was doing until she was already out of the manhole, standing on the street, and letting the cover fall back in place with a rib-shaking clang.

All ten heads in the electronics store suddenly snapped up to look directly at her. For a moment it seemed that they couldn't believe what they were seeing. Then Ella's mind suddenly returned to her body and she turned and ran, and the sight of fleeing prey started the Trackers whistling frantically again. With a crash of breaking glass, the Myrmidons broke through the door and windows of the shop as one and began thundering down the street after her.

Ella ran as she had never run before. Before the exertion could begin to weaken her the adrenaline coursing through her did the job for it. After only a handful of strides she was wheezing for breath and her legs seemed to have gone numb beneath her. Any moment she expected to feel the clammy fingers of a Tracker clamping down on her wrist, or the explosive impact of a Myrmidon's bludgeon against her skull.

But neither came. As she neared an intersection, she begged whatever higher being might be looking down on her that her memory of the drain layout was correct. And as she turned the corner, sure enough, she saw another manhole, one that they had passed on the way there. A quick glance behind her confirmed that she had enough of a lead on her pursuers that they hadn't yet turned the corner, and for the moment couldn't see her. With strength she didn't think she had, she wrenched the cover off of the manhole, dropped herself inside, and managed to pull the cover back into place before the crash of hobnailed boots heralded the Myrmidons' arrival.

She had pulled the manhole cover over her fingers, but she couldn't even feel the pain. She huddled in the water of the drain, listening to her enemies pass above her, hoping that none of the Myrmidons had seen the manhole cover move and that none of the Trackers could smell her from where she hid. A metallic noise from above almost convinced Ella that they had found her, but it was only a Myrmidon stepping on the manhole cover as it ran by. In seconds, the stampede had passed, the Myrmidons pursuing an invisible quarry down the empty street. Ella stayed pressed against the bottom of the drain until their footfalls faded in the distance.

A splash behind her, and a shadow looming on the wall, made her leap up and reach for her sword. But when she spun around to see what was sneaking up on her, she found herself face-to-face with Drum, both backpacks in his hand, a bewildered expression on his face.

"What happened? I heard them run out," he said uncertainly, pointing back toward the shop, "So I climbed out of the cellar and made a break for the drains."

"Good," said Ella, her voice scratchy from exertion and fear, "If you hadn't, they might have come back before I could go get you, and I would have risked my life for nothing."

Drum said nothing for several seconds. Then, slowly, the smallest of smiles appeared on his face. "It was you," he said, "You saved me."

Ella grabbed her pack from him and wryly returned the smile. "I've lost enough people," she said, "No one else is dying on my watch." She tried to tell herself that she would have done the same for anyone, that Drum wasn't special to her. After all, she had only known him for a few days, she kept reminding herself.

He wasn't Brat.

Drum reached out and put one huge hand on Ella's shoulder. "Thanks," he said.


	8. Chapter 8

By the dimming of the light lancing through the manhole covers above them, Ella could tell that night was approaching. They had sloshed their way back through the tunnels for hours, and they were finally nearing the Main Junction. It was tempting to think of a dry robe and a warm bed, but Ella didn't allow anticipation to dull her senses. She had to stay on the alert. "Not far now," she muttered, as much to herself as to Drum.

Drum followed, nursing a dying flashlight. Ella's light had broken sometime during her flight from the electronics store, and Drum's was almost out of batteries. Its weak light barely reached the walls. Ella could find their way back by memory if she had to, but the light was a comfort as the tunnels darkened steadily with the onset of night.

But just as they were about to make the last turn into the Main Junction, the light flickered and died. Ella was about to tell Drum not to worry, and that she knew the way back, when one of his massive hands came down gently but unexpectedly on her shoulder. His voice was so quiet that it was almost lost in the sound of the running water. "There's something up ahead."

He was right. Now that their light was gone, Ella's dark-sharpened eyes could see a soft glow from up ahead. The eerie quality of the light left no doubt as to what it was.

"Witchlights," she whispered back, "Myrmidons. They know we use the Main Junction; they must have stationed a maniple there after they lost us at the electronics store."

"What do we do?" Drum asked as they both automatically began retreating away from the light.

"We'll have to take a longer way around," said Ella, "But… oh. If we don't go straight through, we'll miss the low tide and we won't be able to get in. Damn it. We'll have to spend the night outside the sub." They had worked their way back through the drain to where the witchlight was no longer visible.

"Where?" asked Drum, sounding startled.

"Don't worry," said Ella, "It happens. There's a cache not far from here where we'll be safe. Follow me."

Drum began to agree, then stopped mid-nod. "Something's coming," he hissed, and with no further warning he grabbed Ella around the waist and hustled both of them into a side tunnel. Crouched there in the dark, Ella could hear the splashing of heavy feet working against the current, getting closer. The glow of the witchlight bounced back into view, illuminating the walls of the drain. It was getting brighter. The Myrmidon Master who carried it would surely be upon them in no time.

Drum was crawling farther into the side tunnel, trying to get Ella to follow him. But Ella remained, watching the approaching light with catlike concentration. Any human would be a fool to attack a maniple of Myrmidons, but this was no maniple. Listening to the footsteps, Ella was certain that she could hear only one Myrmidon approaching. She had heard of Shade's children killing Myrmidons that had become separated from one another. It was possible. Not probable, and not wise, but possible.

"Ella!" Drum called out to her, as loudly as he dared. Ella turned to look at him, and even in the dark he must have seen some of the tempest that was her mind at that moment, because he stopped and stared at her in horror. "Don't do it!" he whispered.

But it was no use. At that moment, the Myrmidon Master turned the last corner and appeared in their view. The side tunnel was suddenly filled with direct light from the glowing orb it held in its hand. Drum, farther in, was still hidden in shadows, but the Myrmidon could clearly see Ella, crouching like a tigress, her sword already slipping free of its sheath. She was tired of running, of hiding, of dying. For once, she wanted to be the predator instead of the prey.

Without a sound, Ella launched herself from the water and thrust her sword into the tiny gap in the armor at the Myrmidon's neck. The point found its mark, but the Myrmidon twisted its head so that its armor closed around the blade like a vice, and with a toss of its mighty shoulders Ella was thrown across the wide drain, hitting the concrete wall and splashing into the waist-deep water. She staggered upright, sputtering, only to find that she was holding half of a sword. The point of her blade was still jammed in the Myrmidon's armor.

Her mind a perfect, bloodthirsty blank, Ella watched her enemy advancing on her, an inhuman bellow escaping from its bleeding throat. She stood without fear, her broken sword at the ready to score another blow.

But before either could strike, the Myrmidon was suddenly jerked backwards. Ella saw powerful arms clad in green wrap themselves around the creature's shoulders, twisting its joints until its weapon and light fell into the water with a splash. It screamed with rage, fighting against its restraints, but it was held fast. As the witchlight rolled along the bottom of the drain it suddenly illuminated Drum's face. The determination Ella saw there told her that his arms would hold the Creature until they were torn from his body.

Ella dropped her sword and ran at the grappling foes, ignoring her pain and the difficulty of moving through the water. Just next to the Myrmidon was a metal ladder, and glinting against its dull armor was the swirled gold of her sword blade. With the clarity of purpose that only comes upon a person in battle, she pulled herself up on the ladder, swung her hips around, and kicked the broken end of the blade so that it was forced the rest of the way into the Myrmidon's neck.

A fine spray of ichor peppered Ella's jumpsuit with blue, and the Myrmidon's huge body convulsed and then went limp. Drum dropped it so that it lay propped up against the curved side of the drain, its head still above water and leaking ichor. The two of them stood there for a moment, Ella staring down at the Myrmidon and Drum staring at her.

Ella could only think of how very human the Myrmidon suddenly looked – relaxed, vulnerable, and helpless, with torn flesh visible through the bleeding gap at its neck. She had learned from a young age to equate helplessness with her own species, and strength with her captors. All her life she had seen evidence of it: time after time, children like her were cut down by Creatures who never showed the slightest weakness or remorse. But today, as she stood triumphant over her broken and bleeding enemy, just for a moment, she was the Creature, and it the unfortunate child.

And it felt good.

Her dark, fierce thoughts must have been visible on her face, because when Drum spoke it was in a tone one might reserve for a rabid dog. "We made a lot of noise," he said, "The others will come soon."

"I know," said Ella, "This way." She was about to lead Drum into the drain that would take them to the cache she knew was nearby, but she hesitated. The Myrmidon's witchlight was still visible through the deep water. It had rolled along the bottom and gotten wedged in a corner. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, Ella knelt and scooped it out of the water. It dimmed, but she squeezed it and it flared back to life.

By the light of the stolen orb, Ella led Drum through the labyrinth of tunnels, quickening her pace when she heard the rest of the maniple advancing out of the junction to find their missing leader. The witchlight was cool and bright in her hand. It was something that she had never thought a human would hold. A symbol. A trophy.

She whispered then, so quietly that not even Drum could hear, "For you, Brat. Today I won."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Oh my God! I actually finished an entire fic! I'm quite proud of myself. If you made it all the way to the end, please review!

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The cache was in an old water tower. The top had been blown off in some battle or another, and rain kept it partially full most of the time. One of Shade's teams had riveted planks across the inside of it, making a rough floor about halfway down the rusting walls. The water below the floor kept Creatures on the street from noticing the smell of humans inside, and a carefully-placed camouflage awning hid the stack of supplies from overhead Wingers. It was a small cache, but close to the Sub, and very useful.

By the time Ella had pulled herself up the ladder and inside, she was nearly spent. It was fully dark. Heavy clouds obscured the stars and moon, so the only light came from the witchlight Ella still gripped. The next low tide wouldn't come until morning. It was time to sleep

Drum entered the tower after her and immediately began opening the cases against the wall. He found a spare sword and handed it to Ella. She slipped it into her empty scabbard and muttered, "Thanks." She had forgotten that she was still missing a sword. After the long day, the only thing on her mind was sleep. How was Drum still alert and attentive?

Ella sat on one of the planks and slumped against the wall. She tried to close her eyes, but as much as she wanted to sleep it wouldn't come. She was still too keyed up after their series of close calls.

Instead, she watched Drum continue to rifle through the contents of the cache. He found some food and spare coveralls. While he ate, he offered the change of clothes to Ella. "You'll be more comfortable sleeping in something dry," he said.

The thought of standing and wrestling with her wet coveralls was too much for Ella. Her legs were exhausted from wading all day, and the rest of her body was sore from all the running, climbing, and fighting. "I don't care," she sighed, "I'm not moving."

"At least eat something," he said, holding out a can of peaches.

"I'm not hungry," she said. Her hands remained in her lap, wrapped protectively around her witchlight.

Drum sat down next to her, his weight making the boards sag. He ate a square of uncooked ramen noodles like a cracker, unspeaking. Ella still couldn't sleep so she said, "What? You're not going to scold me?"

"For what?" said Drum, crunching the last of the noodles.

"For attacking that Myrmidon," she said, "For not taking care of myself. Trying to get myself killed, right?" She tried to laugh, but it rang hollow and hurt the bruises over her ribs.

"Maybe not," said Drum, "You take risks others might not take, but they're calculated risks at least. I don't think anything can stop you from doing that, even if it will get you killed one day."

Ella answered defensively, throwing Drum's own words back at him, "I thought I couldn't afford to die. I'm special, not expendable, leading the brave new world, right?" She snorted her derision at the idea.

Drum was silent for a long time. Then he finally said, "No. I was wrong about you."

Ella hadn't believed those things, but she was surprised to find that it still hurt to hear Drum declare them false. "Guess I wasn't as perfect as you'd hoped," she sneered, "That happens a lot nowadays. I thought Brat was good enough not to get caught, but I was wrong about him too, wasn't I? We always want to think things are better than they are. But they're not. They're crap. The whole world is crap and is everything in it. Even us."

"That's not what I said," said Drum, "You won't be the one to build a new world. Like me, you're too much a part of this one. I don't think you'd be happy without a war to fight. You're missing something. I saw it in your eyes when you killed that Myrmidon."

"But," he went on, "That's not a bad thing. Not in a world like this. It's not bad to be a soldier, and you're one of the best. Someone else will rebuild the world after this war, but it's people like us who will win it for them. That's enough for me."

"If we could win the war," Ella whispered. I seemed impossible from where she sat, cold and wrecked, huddled in a ruined water tower with a city full of deadly enemies just outside. But if it was possible… "Yeah," she said, "That would be enough for me too."

They sat in silence for a while. Ella finally felt her adrenaline high fading, and her eyelids began to droop. But sitting still had allowed her wet clothes to sap her body heat, and now she was kept awake by violent shivering. Her hands, pale with cold, still clutched the witchlight, trying to draw warmth from the cold sphere.

Drum noticed. Gently, he pried Ella's stiff fingers from around the orb and slipped it into an empty pocket on her belt. As it left his hands, its light dimmed and went out. The darkness was complete.

Then Ella felt something drape over her shoulders. It was Drum's arm, so huge that it enveloped her like a blanket. He drew her close to him, resting her head on his shoulder and leaning her body against his chest.

"Hey," she said, almost pushing herself away, "Don't get any ideas."

"Don't worry," said Drum without a hint of embarrassment or ulterior motive, "I'm just warming you up." Muscle by muscle, Ella relaxed. Even through his wet coveralls he radiated heat, and there was nothing sexual in his touch. Somehow she believed that he would never have taken advantage of her.

She didn't love him. There was no room for love in the world they lived in. She couldn't even allow herself to get close, not after Brat. She could never allow Drum to become her weakness.

But he saw her for what she was: imperfect. And since she was imperfect, she would need help sometimes. Maybe, just maybe, during those times, she could lean on him, a little bit.

Her shivering stopped, and her eyes finally closed. "Thanks," she mumbled, "Thanks for, you know, everything."

His reply, coming right before she drifted off into a fitful sleep, was so quiet that she barely heard.

"You're welcome."


End file.
